


Even If You Don't Believe It

by FannyT



Series: Ficlet Instruments 2019 [12]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Ficletinstruments, Pre-Canon, Week 12 - Misperception
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 00:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FannyT/pseuds/FannyT
Summary: Meliorn likes everything about Isabelle.





	Even If You Don't Believe It

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [sh_ficletinstruments](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sh_ficletinstruments) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> One character has always thought something was true. Another demonstrates how wrong they are.

Isabelle is lying in Meliorn’s bed. 

She showed up with a sexy dress and an agenda, which was fun. Now she’s relaxed, absentmindedly braiding his hair, which is also fun. Meliorn enjoys every part of hanging out with Izzy. He likes the way she laughs, he likes the way she kisses, he likes the way she fights, he likes the way she can lie so easily but still rarely does. 

He likes all the roles she wears so easily: temptress, soldier, diplomat, scientist, heir. There’s nothing disparate in it. She’s all these things at once and more. 

“Mother’s coming back to New York,” Isabelle says, her fingers tightening temporarily on his hair. “Looking forward to hear what I’ve done wrong this time.”

There’s a lie there, of course, one of the ones that fascinate him so much. Because it’s true and also not true—she’s being ironic, but she still wants to know. She’s always trying to learn, ever trying to outdo her parents’ impossibly high standards. 

“Last time she was here, she went through my records. Of course, she managed to find the one time I filed an arrest report incorrectly. Won’t be making that mistake again in a hurry.”

Meliorn hums in agreement. 

“That might be why she still hasn’t put my name forward for the upcoming diplomatic mission to Idris. Dad said he’d talk to her about it.”

“I’m going to Idris soon,” Meliorn says. “I can pass your name around.”

She detaches one hand from his hair to stroke his cheek. “Thank you. But I’m not sure it would help.” She hesitates, her fingers lingering against his skin. “I’m sorry.”

No lie there. She is genuinely unhappy with seelies’ lack of vote in the Clave and general low influence in Idris, he knows that.

“I wish I could do something about it. Go there. Change people’s minds. I don’t know.” She sighs. “But at the rate I’m going, I won’t be ready for the Clave until I’m thirty. I mean, I’m obviously too impulsive. And I never manage to find the right way to relate to people. And I keep making these stupid mistakes.”

“All of that is wrong,” Meliorn interrupts. “You’re clever and good with people and excellent at your job.”

He turns his head to look at her. “You’re not a failure, Isabelle.” 

He can see her start to smile, dismissing the comment as gentle reassurance, so he takes her hand and points out,

”I can’t lie, remember.”

For a moment she hesitates, then her face softens. 

“Thank you,” she says. “I know I’m not a failure, really.”

A lie. 

Still, there’s something a little less tense about her shoulders as she leans back against his pillows, smiling as she moves the conversation on to tales of her brothers’ exploits.


End file.
